Tell the Wolves I'm Home - Carla Rifka Brunt

How great is that cover? So great. 

I generally consider myself a stone cold (fox) of a woman; not a lot of things in real life make me cry - which my therapist says isn't something to be proud of, but what does she know? However, this book... this book, you guys.

I read the book jacket before starting in order to remind myself of what I was getting in to, which is always a stupid thing to do. Book jackets are designed to sell books, and they do a Very Bad Job of it. But my point is that the book jacket says those dreaded words, "debut novel," so I promptly tweeted this very snarky thing:

And then 40 pages later, when I was in a figurative flood of tears, I took it back. Because this is what a "debut novel" should be, written by someone with proven writing chops who has turned her face to long-form fiction, and it. is. gorgeous.

It is 1987, Junie is 14, and her best friend is her uncle Finn, who is a fabulous artist in NYC and also dying of AIDS. Quickly. Like, definitely before THIS narrative is over, let's just say that much.

So, here's the deal. This book is about loneliness and growing up and learning about yourself, and also about family relationships and how complicated they can be. And really,

because *I* have a gay uncle who is my favorite, and I am his favorite, and we both love art and Mozart's Requiem and while this isn't our story, it could have been, and I...

I actually had to put the book down a few times to SOB. So nice work, CRB. Puffy eyes at work is my best look.

9.5 out of 11 Clandestine Trips to NYC